


Confluence

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair finally starts to wonder what Jim is up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confluence

## Confluence

by Aouda Fogg

Not mine, making no money. I'm glad they were created though, so we could play with them! <wg> Nicely, of course!

Thank you to all the Lurkers for helping me kickstart my muse -- you ladies are the BEST! This story is for you. :) Many thanks, also, to the wonderful people who betaed this for me -- ya' all know who you are!

* * *

"Hey, Sandburg, you want to catch the Zydeco Fest down at the pier tomorrow?" 

Blair turned around from hanging shirts in his closet to see Jim leaning casually against the doorjamb. "I didn't know you liked zydeco, Jim." 

"Don't know that I do," Jim shrugged a bit. "But there's going to be some jazz, too, and I know I like Cajun food, and there's supposed to be a big food area." 

"Ah, now I see, you want some jambalaya." 

"Shrimp, Chief, it's all about the shrimp." 

Blair laughed and jiggled the last of his shirts into the small closet. "You sure you're up to the crowds?" It'd been a long couple of weeks, and he wondered about the fatigue impacting Jim's senses. 

Jim rolled his eyes. "I think my senses can take it; I haven't had any problems in months. And besides, you'll be there with me." He pushed away from the jamb with his shoulder. "I figure we could walk so we don't have to hassle parking, so, say 11:30? Get down there before it's too busy and check it out?" 

"Sounds groovy, man." 

"Okay, then, good night, Chief." 

"Night." Blair moved on to putting away his folded clothes, enjoying the anticipation he now had for the next day. Turning out the light a few minutes later, he tried to remember the name of the band he thought Jim would like -- seemed like he'd heard they were playing the Fest. He fell asleep with a small smile on his face. 

* * *

"That was great, Jim." 

"Yeah, it was." The taller man tossed the bag of CDs on the table and walked into the living room. 

"Good find on those CDs. I think Simon is totally going to dig it." 

"Even better is that our Christmas shopping for Simon is done, and it's only summer." 

"That's a bonus, alright." Blair drank the last of his non-alcoholic Mint Julep, making a hollow sucking sound as he made sure he got the last drops. He blithely ignored the exasperated look Jim shot him from across the room. "You hungry?" 

"Chief, at the moment, I don't think I'll ever eat again." 

Rubbing his own stomach a bit, Blair commiserated. "It was that last thing of hushpuppies that did me in." 

"You and me both, buddy," Jim answered ruefully as he flopped down on the couch. "Feel like watching the game?" 

"Mariners?" 

"Yep." 

"Sure. Water?" 

"Yeah." 

Grabbing two waters out of the fridge, Blair joined the older man on the couch. After he handed over a water bottle, he arranged himself at the opposite end of the couch, unconsciously mirroring Jim right down to the slouch and the foot on the coffee table. They sat there like bookends for a moment before Blair spoke again. "Thanks for suggesting the Fest, Jim. It really was awesome." 

Jim turned his head to look at his partner and took a slow sip of his water. "Thanks for going with me, Chief." 

Blair smiled back and burrowed even further into the couch. "So what do you think of their chances tonight?" 

* * *

Blair's sigh of relief as he turned off his desk lamp said it all. 

"Yeah, right there with you, Chief." Jim smiled tiredly as he got up and grabbed his coat. "That was one steel-plated bitch of a case, but at least it's over now." 

"I'll make a list of deities to thank on the way home." Pushing his chair against the desk, Sandburg joined his partner as they walked out the door. "Still, I'm glad we finished the paperwork. Now we don't have that hanging over our heads all weekend." 

"See the great things that happen when we don't procrastinate?" Jim smirked as he pressed the down button. 

"You know, Ellison, I've been through the classes; I can kick your ass now." 

"You can try." 

"Hey, man, there is no try, only do." 

"Sure, Yoda. Whatever." 

They both held a hand up in farewell to Jenkins, who had night guard duty this evening in the garage. 

"Mock as you will, but I have stealth." 

"Stealth? Oh, so that was stealth when you put your foot in the trash can yesterday?" 

Blair affected an air of loftiness. "Even greatness has the occasional misstep." 

Jim paused while he unlocked the doors to the truck and they got into the cab. "Misstep? Yeah, you were stepping pretty funny, one foot in a trash can, while you kept your gun on Petrak." 

Detective Blair Sandburg took that opportunity to display his maturity and assurance in his position as one of Cascade's Finest; he stuck his tongue out at his partner. 

"Good come back, Chief. You learn that one on the debate team?" 

"Nah, just from watching my much older partner in action." 

Jim lapsed into amused silence, while Blair's quietness held just the smallest hint of triumphant smugness. They rode through the almost deserted streets letting the quiet sshussh of the tires on wet asphalt relax them. 

Finally, when they were most of the way home, Jim spoke again. "Ming Wah's? We should be able to get our order in just in time." 

Blair took a quick look at his watch. "Yeah, we've got bubkis at home." He pulled out his cell, "You want pot stickers?" 

"Of course. And that chicken with the funny-looking green beans." 

A few minutes later, they were on their way back to the loft, having picked up the food and lived through a scolding from Mrs. Hu for working so late. The cab full of the aroma of good Chinese food, and the light rain falling outside made the truck feel strangely cozy. 

"You got plans for Sunday?" 

Looking up from where he was rooting in the bag for the crunchy noodles, Blair pondered briefly. "Nothing specific. At some point this weekend I need to pick up my dry cleaning, and our larder is seriously bare. Time for a major grocery expedition." 

"How about we get that done tomorrow? Did you hear about the architecture walk the city is having downtown Sunday morning? Sounded interesting." 

"No! How did I miss that?" 

"Don't know, the flyer was in the break room. So, do you want to go?" 

"They doing the history of the buildings and growth and stuff?" 

"So said the flyer. It's only supposed to last until 10-10:30. We could eat afterwards at that little place in the park -- the one with the great omelets." 

"The Pumpkin Patch. Yeah, sounds good -- and it'll give us some motivation to get all the mundane crap done tomorrow." 

"Okay, great." 

* * *

"Man, I worked in that building, for, like, years and I didn't know that stuff about Hargrove Hall!" Not pausing in his exuberance at having learned something new, Sandburg toed off his shoes and kicked them into his room. He grinned again at Jim, sharing his happiness with him. "And wasn't that stuff about the Masonic symbols on the DWP cool?" 

Jim smiled as the echoes of the old Sandburg bounce shown through the more mature faade his partner now had. "My favorite was the Old Train Station. Next time we go down there for the Farmer's Market, I'm going to have to look more closely at the stonework." 

"Totally. I asked the docent who led today if they have other walks like this. She said the architecture ones aren't as frequent, but they're going to have one about the history of the Gold Rush in Cascade in a few weeks." 

"There was a Gold Rush in Cascade?" 

"We were at the periphery of the miners coming through, and a lot of the settlers when the town first started really growing spilled over from the mining camps." 

"Huh. Well, we'll have to go." 

"Yeah." 

As they puttered around the loft for the rest of the afternoon, Blair decided that this was a seriously great way to start off the week. 

* * *

"Hey, Chief?" Jim called as he came through the door. "I just bought a couple of tickets to the antique car show on the 16th from the Lansing girl downstairs." 

"You old softy," Blair laughed as he dried his hands on a dish towel. 

Jim shrugged sheepishly. "Fundraiser for band camp. So, you want to go?" 

"Yeah, sure, why not? Maybe we can figure out a way to enter your truck!" 

"Uh, pot? Kettle? Just because you aren't driving the Corvair any more doesn't leave you much room to mock." 

Blair let the comment slide. "Dinner's in five; you've got time to clean up if you want." 

"Great. Be right back." 

* * *

"Sandburg?" 

"Mmmhum?" Blair didn't look up from his screen; he had two more forms to fill out before the end of the day and, hopefully, just enough time to do it and get home at a reasonable hour. 

"I was just looking at the schedule; we've both got the weekend off in two weeks. What do you say we head out to Twin Pines, go fishing one last time before the weather turns cold?" 

The suggestion definitely distracted Blair, and he look up eagerly. "Excellent idea, Big Guy. I think that might be when Megan and I were thinking of going to a movie, but we can move it." 

Jim backed away a bit, and Blair watched his smile fade. 

"No problem, Chief. Another time." 

"No, no, wait, Jim. A movie can be any time; fishing waits for no man. Besides we could both use the time away, and this way I can use the new lure I got at that fishing expo we went to last month." He smiled happily at the thought, and was pleased to see Jim smiling again, too. This was great; he loved going fishing with Jim. 

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you scored Jag's tickets for the sixth game in the division finals!" 

Blair's voice was a little hoarse from all the yelling he'd been doing; Jim's voice was just as scratchy when he answered. 

"Not quite as exciting as the final game of the series, but a still a good game, huh, Chief?" 

"Good? A good game? Jim, it was one of the greatest games I've ever seen. I can't believe I got to be there!" 

They rolled forward a few more feet as the streams of cars inched their way toward the exits. 

"And when Lincoln got that final three-pointer?" Blair mimicked the motion of shooting the ball. "Oh, man. Unbelievable. Simon is going to commit seppuku or something when he finds out we were there!" 

"Oh, yeah, can you imagine his face when we tell him where our seats were? Better than that fish from Miller Lake last summer!" 

They laughed together gleefully and rehashed more of the game as they made their way out of the parking lot. 

"Jim, thanks for inviting me tonight." His grin was bright in the dark cab. "You are just the greatest friend ever! I _knew_ there were reasons I kept you around!" 

The silence from across the seat lasted long enough that Blair turned to look at his partner, worried that Jim hadn't caught the teasing. He found Jim staring back at him, a small smile lurking around his mouth. He wondered about that look, was about to ask if something was wrong, but then Jim spoke and he got distracted. 

"Glad to know I'm good for something, Chief. You feel like stopping for pie at Jolene's?" 

* * *

Getting ready for bed was usually a time Blair used to slow his brain down, chill out a little, and start coasting into sleep. Tonight, however, as he stood in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, his mind wouldn't stop. It kept circling around and around the same issue. 

It had happened again tonight. Like it had when he and Jim had gotten back from other evenings -- a movie, a lecture about interrogation techniques, a baseball game at Cascade's AA League team, something. Tonight it had been the Tibetan Art exhibit down at the Natural History Museum. Parting at the base of the stairs, Jim heading up, him heading over to his room, they'd said good night, and right before Jim had turned away, Blair had again gotten the sense that the other man was looking at him, searching for something, waiting for . . . something. 

Tapping the excess water out of his toothbrush, Blair tried to trace the feeling back and figure out how long he'd been getting it. It wasn't a new thing, he thought, just something that finally seemed to be sinking in. 

Looking back over the last four or five months, he realized just how much he and Jim had been doing together. They'd always done stuff around the loft, and had always spent time together on the weekends and evenings, but now Blair realized that the only weekend they hadn't done something together in the last several months was the weekend Jim had spent with Stephen. And that didn't include the lectures and events Jim seemed to be finding everywhere during the week. It wasn't that they didn't still do stuff with the guys from work, just that they were doing a lot of other activities with just the two of them. 

Actually, they'd been having a lot of fun, learning new things, finding new restaurants, exploring Cascade. He'd also learned a lot about Jim. He hadn't know the other man was such an old movie buff, or that he was getting increasingly interested in bird watching; they'd agreed that using the Sentinel's senses for something fun would make a nice change. 

And who knew Jim liked Buddhist art so much? He smiled fondly at the memory of the questions Jim had asked tonight at the Tibetan exhibit. Of course he'd always known Jim had a keenly analytical mind, it's just that he was impressed with the connections the guy had made with some art he'd seen in Thailand. 

But how long had he been getting this other . . . vibe, for lack of a better word? Just the slightest hint of anticipation from Jim at the end of the evenings. What was his partner waiting for? Or was he just wrong, and Jim was just saying good night? 

Casting his mind back over the things they'd been doing the last few months, it suddenly struck him that it was Jim doing the suggesting, Jim finding a flyer, or Jim buying some tickets. Maybe he's waiting for me to ask him to do something? Could that be what this is? 

A knock at the door jolted him out of his vague musings that he was somehow missing a vital piece of the puzzle. He stared blankly down that the towel in his hands, wondering just how long he'd been standing there holding it. 

"Blair? You about done in there?" 

"Sorry!" He called back through the door. Stuffing the towel through the hanger, he opened the door quickly. "Sorry, Jim, lost track of the time." 

"You ok, Chief?" Jim asked, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder. 

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just thinking," he just waved the question away. Gesturing grandly, he said, "It's all yours." 

"Thanks." 

The snick of the door latch as Jim closed the door made Blair realize he'd been a little zoned staring at Jim's shoulders. And his arms. `And come on, admit it,' a little voice needled as he walked to his room, `his legs, too. He has great legs.' Quashing the voice before it could say anything else, he strode to his bedroom and got into bed. 

His careful absorption in arranging his blankets just right did nothing to quiet the feeling that he was teetering on the brink of some large discovery. Vaguely annoyed with himself, but not quite sure why, he pounded a bit on his pillow to make it squish properly. Lying there, he decided that if nothing else, tomorrow he'd test his theory and come up with something for him and Jim to do. For the moment, though, he slid into sleep thinking about the evening and the way Jim had smiled as he'd explained the significance of Tibetan prayer wheels to him. 

* * *

The next morning, Blair scanned the paper quickly as Jim showered. Finally, on the last page of the Life and Living section, he'd found it. Something for them to do. Something light and fun for a Friday night. A movie they had both once admitted they secretly enjoyed. 

Eager to test his theory now that he had one, he waited impatiently while Jim got dressed and finally joined him downstairs for breakfast. He'd swear Jim had never been slower in the almost five years he'd lived here. 

Then, while Jim poured the juice and he spread the butter on their toast, Blair put the wheels into motion. He ignored the fact that he felt strangely breathless. "Hey, Jim? The Rialto is having a special showing of `Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' tonight. Starts at seven, so we could get something to eat first if you want." 

Because he was watching closely, he saw the way Jim froze for a moment and then went on as if nothing had happened. Consumed by the implications of that, Blair almost missed the man's reply. 

"I'd like that, Chief." 

Pleased and excited, Blair slid the plate of toast onto the table. "Excellent. We're there!" 

* * *

"Gene Wilder has one of the greatest movie entrances ever! I love the cane. And the somersault gets me every time." 

Jim scoffed a bit as he unlocked the door and let them into the loft. "Me? I think you love the movie because you feel a kinship with the Oompa Loompas!" 

"Oh, that is cold, man!" 

"The hair, the bounce, you sure you never saw a Vermicious Knid on your travels?" 

"Talk to the hand, James, talk to the hand. Like you didn't spend the whole movie lusting after the chocolate!" 

Jim affected hurt, "You wouldn't want a living room where everything was edible?" 

Blair cackled with glee, "But, Jim? How would you enforce the no eating on the couch rule?" 

Jim just grinned manically and hummed the Oompa Loompa song. 

Both men were laughing as they parted at the bottom of the stairs in what had become a near nightly ritual, when it finally hit Blair in a rush. 

They were parting at the bottom of the stairs. He was lingering at the stairs while Jim went up. Saying goodnight at the end of the evening. Parting lingeringly, Jim watching him closely. 

They were saying good night at the end of a date! They'd been dating for months without him realizing it. Jeezus, what kind of a detective was he? That's what Jim had been looking for. That's why he'd been getting that searching look -- Jim was waiting for him to figure it out and do something other than say good night. 

Everything he'd been feeling since . . . before the academy - really, since forever - suddenly rushed over him, revealing the simple truth. He loved Jim Ellison. The sense of freedom he felt at finally - finally! - understanding these feelings bubbled up inside him. He wondered if he was glowing. 

He loved Jim Ellison. 

The same Jim Ellison who was standing with his hand on the railing looking puzzled because he, Blair Sandburg, was standing there like an idiot with his mouth hanging open. 

Feeling more sure of what he was about to do than anything he'd ever done in his life, Blair stepped forward until he was just a couple of inches from his partner. Watching as Jim's eyes got wider, he reached out and put his hands on Jim's chest. He savored the warmth under his hands for a moment, and then, rocking up on his toes just a bit, he kissed Jim Ellison, there at the foot of the stairs. 

He pulled away gently and watched Jim blink a few times. 

"Blair?" 

Jim's eyes were searching eagerly now, searching his face for some other sign. Now that Blair knew how to answer that search, he did so readily. In a voice that carried a swell of emotion despite how quiet it was, he said, "I love you, James Ellison." 

The quiet joy that suffused Jim's face at the words sent the bubbling fountain inside Blair shooting high again, and for a long moment, they stood there, neither quite able to believe it, grinning at each other like fools. 

Finally, Blair moved. Cupping Jim's face with his hands, he kissed him again. "Sorry it took me so long. But I've got it now." 

The next instant he was wrapped in Jim's arms, being held tighter than he ever had in his life. It felt good. 

"I love you, too, Blair Sandburg." 

Blair pulled back just far enough that he could see Jim's face and wrapped his own arms around the body he'd wanted to touch for a very long time. "So, we're in agreement about that, then. What do you say we do about it?" He asked innocently while rocking his hips blatantly against Jim's. 

"Gee, I don't know," Jim answered back, doing some rocking of his own. "I hear there's a great exhibit down at the Maritime Museum; want to go?" 

"Yeah, not so much, really." He slid his hands down further, dipping his fingers just below Jim's belt. 

"Huh, well," he gasped as Blair leaned up and licked at his open collar. "Umm, the tile around the shower could use some new grout." 

"Hmmm, intriguing as that sounds, try again." He let his words drift past Jim's ear as he kissed his way along the line of Jim's jaw. He'd always loved it. 

"How about you suggest something?" Jim demanded, although the power of his words lost a little something as his eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back to give Blair more skin to play with. 

"How about we head up stairs and say good night up there. I have some real interesting techniques for saying good night." Sliding his hand around Jim's ass, he pulled them together even more closely and ground his hardening cock against Jim's. 

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Jim gasped. 

An instant later, Blair found himself being dragged up the stairs. With his free hand, he traced the seam on the seat of Jim's pants. He laughed in sheer joy at the startled yelp the move produced. 

He was never quite sure how he ended up on the bed, pressed into the mattress by Jim's full weight, but he definitely wasn't stupid enough to complain. Groaning at the hot whispers of Jim's voice as they stripped each other's clothes off as quickly as they could, he panted against Jim's shoulder, trying to listen as waves of pleasure broke over his body. 

"Wanted you for so long. So long. Need you, Chief. Always, always." 

Dotting every bit of Jim he could reach with kisses, Blair hung on desperately to the bed as Jim focused his full attention on him. The Sentinel left no part of him untouched or untasted, and the streaks of heat flashing through him left him lost in a sensual haze. 

But then, oddly, the look on Jim's face burned through that haze, and brought back a modicum of Blair's control as he watched his new lover with awe. The joy he saw on Jim's face downstairs as he'd admitted his feelings had been wondrous, but it was nothing compared to how Blair felt watching Jim's face as he mapped his body in loving detail. 

In fact, the only thing that topped it was the jubilation he felt as he watched Jim throw his head back, his own name spilling from those beautiful lips, and come with a final thrust against his stomach and his still-hard cock. In fact, the look on Jim's face rocked him so deeply that he'd needed nothing else, and he'd followed Jim seconds later, spilling his own warmth between them. 

Some time later, Blair propped himself up on his elbow, tucked himself firmly against Jim's side, and played his finger up and down Jim's chest. 

Jim slowly opened his eyes. "I love the feel of your skin, especially the way it feels against mine." 

"Mmmm," Blair rewarded the admission with a kiss and wrapped his thigh over Jim's stomach. "You know, I think it was B.F. Skinner who said that skin to skin contact was vital to healthy growth in babies, but I've always thought that we need it all our lives." 

"Good theory, Chief. Want to do some research on that?" 

"Could be a long-term study, Jim, take years." 

"The rest of our lives?" 

"At least." 

Jim tucked a stray piece of hair behind Blair's ear and took a shaky breath. "I could deal with that." 

They kissed again, lingering, savoring each other. Finally, Blair rested his head against Jim's chest, and they lay there in the quiet silence, just feeling, for a long time. 

Just as they were both drifting off, Blair spoke. "Hey, Jim? Tomorrow? I have these plans to stay in bed all day, want to join me?" 

"Sounds great, Chief." 

June 14, 2004 

* * *

End Confluence by Aouda Fogg: aoudafogg@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.

  
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